General Radet had received a written order from General Miollis, for the arrest of Cardinal Pacca. The order to arrest the Pope was not written down. Nobody had dared to put his signature to it; verbal instructions only were given.

Three detachments of soldiers, furnished with scaling-ladders, ropes and grappling-irons, surrounded the Quirinal. At half-past ten, the sentinel who kept guard on the tower of the Quirinal disappeared. The signal was immediately given. With varying success the small battalions introduced themselves into the palace. The Swiss guard was disarmed; it had for a long time previously received orders to make no resistance. The chief anxiety of the Pope had always been that he might be up and about when they should come to arrest him. He had gone to bed late, and was roused up by the noise in the middle of his first sleep. Cardinal Pacca, however, found him completely dressed, when the former rushed precipitately into his chamber. The gate was already yielding to the efforts of the assailants. Pius VII. seated himself under a canopy; making a sign to the secretary of state, and to Cardinal Desping, to place themselves near him. "Open the gate," said he.

General Radet had never seen the Pope; he recognized him by the attitude of his guides; and immediately sending back the soldiers, he caused the officers to enter with drawn swords; a few gendarmes, with muskets in their hands, also glided into the chamber. The priest was waiting in silence; the soldier was hesitating. At length the latter, hat in hand, spoke: "I have a sorrowful mission to accomplish," said General Radet; "I am compelled by my oaths to fulfil it." Pius VII. stood up. "Who are you," said he, "and what is it you require of me, that you come at such an hour to trouble my repose and invade my dwelling-place?" "Most Holy Father," replied the General, "I come in the name of my government to reiterate to your Holiness the proposal to officially renounce your temporal power. If your holiness consents to it, I do not doubt but that affairs may be arranged, and that the emperor will treat your holiness with the greatest respect." The Pope was resting one hand upon the table placed before him. "If you have believed yourself bound to execute such orders of the emperor by reason of your oath of fidelity and obedience, think to what an extent we feel compelled to sustain the rights of the holy see, to which we are bound by so many oaths? We can neither yield nor abandon that which belongs to it. The temporal power belongs to the Church, and we are only the administrator. The emperor may tear us in pieces, but he will not obtain from us what he demands. After all that we have done for him, ought we to expect such treatment?"

"I know that the emperor is under many obligations to your holiness!" replied Radet, more and more troubled. "Yes, more than you are aware of; but, finally, what are your orders?"—"Most Holy Father, I regret the commission with which I am charged, but I must inform you that I am ordered to take you away with me." The pontiff bent slightly towards the speaker, and said in tones of sweet compassion, "Ah! my son, your mission is one that will not draw down upon you the divine blessing." Then, turning again towards the cardinals, and appearing to speak to himself, "This, then, is the recognition which is accorded to me of all that which I have done for the emperor! This, then, is the reward for my great condescension towards him and towards the Church of France! But perhaps in this respect I have been culpable towards God. He wishes to punish me; I submit with humility."

General Radet had sent for the final orders of General Miollis. The brigadier of gendarmerie charged with this commission re-entered the chamber of the Pope. "The order of his excellency," said he, "is, that it is necessary for the holy father and Cardinal Pacca to set out at once with General Radet: the other persons in his suite will follow after." The Pope rose up; he walked with difficulty. Moved in spite of himself, Radet offered his arm to support him, proposing to retire, in order to leave the holy father free to give his orders and dispose of any valuable objects that he might have a fancy for. "When one has no hold upon life, one has no hold upon the things of this world," replied Pius VII., taking from a table at the side of his bed his breviary and his crucifix. "I am ready," said he.

The carriage was already at the palace gate, the postillions ready to start. The Pope stood still, giving his benediction to the city of Rome, and to the French troops ranged in order of battle on the place. It was four o'clock in the morning; the streets were deserted. The Pope got into the carriage beside Cardinal Pacca; the doors were locked by a gendarme. General Radet and a marshal of the household got on to the box-seat; the horses set off at a quick trot along the road to Florence.

General Radet offered a purse of Gold to the Pope, which the latter refused. "Have you any money?" asked the holy father of his companion. "I have not been permitted to enter my apartment," said the cardinal; "and I did not think of bringing my purse." The Pope had a papetto, value twenty sous. "This is all that remains tome of my principality," said he, smiling. "We are travelling in apostolic fashion," responded Pacca. "We have done well in publishing the bull of the 10th of June," replied Pius VII.; "now it would be too late."

For nineteen hours the coach rattled along; the stores were getting low. Everywhere, and in spite of a few accidents, the passage of the Pope forestalled the news of his capture. The suite of the holy father joined him on the morrow; the Pope was suffering, he was in a fever. The populace began to be stirred up with the rumors which were circulating: they crowded round the carriages. "I disembarrassed myself of them," writes Radet, "by calling out to them to place themselves on their knees on the right and left of the road, in order that the holy father might give him his benediction; then all of a sudden I ordered the postillions to dash forward. By this means the people were still on their kness whilst we were already far away, at a gallop. This plan succeeded everywhere."

Arrived on the 8th of July at the chartreuse of Florence, Pius VII. expected to rest there a few days: but the Princess Baciocchi had not received instructions from the emperor: she hurried the departure. "I see well that they want to cause my death by their bad treatment," said the exhausted old man; "and if there is but a little more of it I feel that the end will not be far off." Cardinal Pacca was no longer with him. At Genoa the Prince Borghese, who was commanding there, was seized with the same panic as the Princess Baciocchi. After a few moments of repose at Alexandria, Pius VII. was carried, by way of Mondovi and Rivoli, towards Grenoble. In the last stages, in the little Italian villages, the bells pealed forth, and the crowd who besought the benediction of the prisoner everywhere retarded the advance. It was the same in all the districts of Savoy and Dauphiny. When the Pope made his entry into Grenoble, on the 21st of July, the ardor of the population had not diminished, but the bells rang no longer; the clergy had been forbidden to present themselves before the pontiff. The prefect was absent, Fouche having been designedly detained at Paris. The orders of the emperor had at length arrived from Schoenbrunn. "I received at the same time the two letters of General Miollis and that of the Grand Duchess," he wrote, on the 18th of July, to Fouche. "I am vexed that the Pope has been arrested; it is a great folly. It was needful to arrest Cardinal Pacca, and to leave the Pope quietly at Rome. But there is no remedy for it now; what is done is done. I know not what the Prince Borghese will have done, but my intention is that the Pope should not enter France. If he is still in the Riviere of Genoa, the best place at which he could be placed would be Savona. There is a house there large enough, where he would be suitably lodged until we know what course he decides upon. If his madness terminates, I have no objection to his being taken back to Rome. If he has entered France, have him taken back towards Savona and San Remo. Cause his correspondence to be examined. As to Cardinal Pacca, have him shut up at Fenestrella; and let him understand that if a single Frenchman is assassinated through his instigation, he will be the first to pay for it with his head."

Fifteen days later (August 6th, 1809), in the midst of his prudent and foreseeing preparations for the possible resumption of hostilities, enlightened by reflection, or by the report of the popular emotion in the provinces traversed by Pius VII., Napoleon modified his orders as to the residence of the Pope. "Monsieur Fouche, I should have preferred that only Cardinal Pacca had been arrested at Rome, and that the Pope had been left there. I should have preferred, since the Pope has not been left at Genoa, that he had been taken to Savona; but since he is at Grenoble, I should be vexed that you should make him set out to be re-conducted to Savona; it would be better to guard him at Grenoble, since he is there; the former course would have the appearance of making sport of the old man. I have not authorized Cardinal Fesch to send any one to his holiness; I have only had the minister of religion informed that I should desire Cardinal Maury and the other prelates to write to the Pope, to know what he wishes, and to make him understand that if he renounces the Concordat I shall regard it on my side as null and void. As to Cardinal Pacca, I suppose that you have sent him to Fenestrella, and that you have forbidden his communication with any one. I make a great difference between the Pope and him, principally on account of his rank and his moral virtues. The Pope is a good man, but ignorant and fanatical. Cardinal Pacca is a man of education and a scoundrel, an enemy of France, and deserving of no regard. Immediately I know where the Pope is located I shall see about taking definitive measures; of course if you have already caused him to set out for Savona, it is not necessary to bring him back."

The Pope was at Savona, where he was long to remain. Already the difficulties of religious administration were commencing, and the emperor's mind was engrossed with the institution of bishops to the vacant sees. He had ordered all the prelates to chant a public Te Deum with reference to the victory of Wagram. The bishops of Dalmatia alone had frankly and spiritedly replied to the statement of reasons which preceded the circular. In France the silence was still profound. The emperor had beforehand forbidden the journals to give any news from Rome. "It is a bad plan to let articles be written," he wrote to Fouche; "there is to be no speaking, either for or against, and it is not to be a matter for discussion in the journals. Well-informed men know perfectly that I have not attacked Rome. The mistaken bigots you cannot alter. Act on this principle." The Moniteur held its tongue. All the journals followed its example. No one talked of the bull of excommunication. The circuits of the missionary priests were forbidden, as well as the ecclesiastical conferences of St. Sulpice. "The missionaries are for whoever pays them," declared the emperor, "for the English, if they are willing to employ them. I do not wish to have any missions whatever; get me ready a draft of a decree on that subject; I wish to complete it. I only know bishops, priests, and curates. I am satisfied with keeping up religion in my own country; I do not care about propagating it abroad." All the cardinals still remaining at Rome were expelled. In the depths of his soul, and in spite of the chimerical impulses of his irritated thoughts, Napoleon was already feeling the embarrassments which he had himself sown along his path. The Pope a prisoner at Savona, indomitable in his conscientious resistance, might become more dangerous than the Pope at Rome, powerless and unarmed. The struggle was not terminated; a breath of revolt had passed over Europe. Henceforth Napoleon was at war with that Catholic religion, the splendor of whose altars he had deemed it a point of honor to restore; he struggled at the same time violently against that national independence of the peoples which he had everywhere in his words invoked in opposition to the arbitrary jealousy of the monarchs. The Spanish sovereigns had succumbed to his yoke; the Spanish people, henceforth sustained by the might of England, courageously defended its liberties. At the moment when the supreme effort of the victory of Wagram was about to snatch humiliating concessions from the Emperor Francis, the captive Pope and the Spanish insurgents were presenting to Europe a salutary and striking contrast, the teachings of which she was beginning to comprehend.

Not the least significant of the lessons on the frailty of the human colossi raised by conquerors is the impossibility of tracing their history on the same canvas. For a long time Napoleon alone had filled the scene, and his brilliant track was easily kept in view. In proportion as he accumulated on his shoulders a burden too heavy, and as he extended his empire without consolidating it, the insufficiency of human will and human power made itself more painfully felt. Napoleon was no longer everywhere present, acting and controlling, in order to repair the faults he had committed, or to dazzle the spectators with new successes. In vain the prodigious activity of his spirit sought to make up for the radical defect of his universal dominion. The Emperor Napoleon was conquered by the very nature of things, before the fruits of his unmeasured ambition had had time to ripen, and before all Europe, indignant and wearied out, was at length roused up against him.

There was already, in 1809, a confused but profound instinctive feeling throughout the world that the moment for resistance and for supreme efforts had arrived. The Archduke Charles had proved it in Austria by the fury of his courage; the English cabinet were bearing witness to it by the great preparations they were displaying on their coast and in their arsenals, as well as by the ready aid lent by them to the insurgents of the Peninsula. The Emperor Napoleon on quitting Spain, in the month of January, had left behind him the certain germs of growing disorder. Obliged of necessity to commit the chief command to King Joseph, he had been desirous of remedying the weakness and military incapacity of the monarch whom he had himself put on the throne by conferring upon the marshals charged with continuing the war an almost absolute authority over their corps d'armee. Each of them was to correspond directly with the minister of war, supremely directed by Napoleon himself. Deprived thus of all serious control over the direction of the war, King Joseph saw himself equally thwarted in civil and financial affairs. Spanish interests were naturally found to conflict with French interests. King Joseph defended the former; an army of imperial functionaries were charged with the protection of the second. In this mission they proceeded at times even to insult. King Joseph threatened to place in a carriage M. de Freville, administrator for the treasury of confiscated goods, and to send him directly to France. The complaints of the unfortunate monarch to his brother were frequent and well founded. "Your Majesty has not entire confidence in me," he wrote on the 17th of February to Napoleon, "and meanwhile, without that, the position is not tenable. I shall not again repeat what I have already written ten times as to the situation of the finances; I give all my faculties to business from eight o'clock in the morning to eleven o'clock in the evening; I go out once a week; I have not a sou to give to any one; I am in the fourth year of my reign, and I still see my guard with the first frock-coat which I gave it, three years ago; I am the goal of all complaints; I have all pretensions to overcome; my power does not extend beyond Madrid, and at Madrid itself I am daily thwarted. Your Majesty has ordered the sequestration of the goods of ten families, it has been extended to more than double. All the habitable houses are sealed up; 6000 domestics of the sequestrated families are in the streets. All demand charity; the boldest of them take to robbery and assassination. My officers—all those who sacrificed with me the kingdom of Naples—are still lodged by billets. Without capital, without income, without money, what can I do? All this picture, bad as it is, is not exaggerated, and, bad as it is, it will not exhaust my courage; I shall arrive at the end of all that. Heaven has given me everything needful to overcome the hindrances from circumstances or from my enemies; but that which Heaven has denied me is an organization capable of supporting the insults and contradictions of those who ought to serve me, and, above all, of contending with the dissatisfaction of a man whom I have loved too well to be ever willing to dislike him. Thus, sire, if my whole life has not given you the fullest confidence in me; if you judge it necessary to surround me with petty souls, who cause me myself to redden with shame; if I am to be insulted even in my capital; if I have not the right to appoint the governors and commandants who are always under my eyes,—I have not two choices to make. I am only King of Spain by the force of your arms. I might become so by the love of the Spaniards; but for that it would be necessary to govern in my own manner. I have often heard you say, 'Every animal has its instinct, and each one ought to follow it.' I will be such a king as the brother and friend of your Majesty ought to be, or I will return to Mortefontaine, where I shall ask for nothing but the happiness of living without humiliation, and of dying with a tranquil conscience."

Joseph Bonaparte had presumed too much on his forces and the remains of his independence. Constantly hard and severe with regard to his brothers, the emperor replied with scorn to King Joseph: "It is not ill-temper and small passions that you need, but views cool and conformable to your position. You talk to me of the constitution. Let me know if the constitution forbids the King of Spain to be at the head of 300,000 Frenchmen? if the constitution prohibits the garrison from being French, and the governor of Madrid a Frenchman? if the constitution says that in Saragossa the houses are to be blown up one after another? You will not succeed in Spain, except by vigor and energy. This parade of goodness and clemency ends in nothing. You will be applauded so long as my armies are victorious; you will be abandoned if they are vanquished. You ought to have become acquainted with the Spanish nation in the time you have been in Spain, and after the events that you have seen. Accustom yourself to think your royal authority as a very small matter."

The emperor had correctly judged the precarious condition of the French power in Spain; he had reckoned, and he still reckoned, on the success of his arms. The military counsellor whom he had left near his brother possessed neither his esteem nor his confidence. Marshal Jourdan was a cold and prudent spirit, always imbued with the military habits of the French Revolution, and had never courted the favor of Napoleon; King Joseph was attached to him, and had brought him with him to Naples. The lieutenants of the emperor showed him no deference; it was, however, by his agency that the orders of the minister of war passed to the staff- officers at Madrid. Already, and by the express instructions of the emperor, Marshal Soult was on march for Portugal. His rapid triumphs did not appear doubtful; and the operations of Marshal Victor in the south of Spain were to be dependent on the succors that were to reach him when Lisbon was conquered. The difficulties everywhere opposed to Marshal Soult by the passionate insurrection of the Portuguese population, however, retarded his march. He only arrived on the banks of the Minho on the 15th of February; the peasants had taken away the boats. An attempted passage near the mouth of the river having failed, the corps d'armee was compelled to reascend its course, after a series of partial combats against the forces of the Marquis of Romana, who had given his support to the Portuguese insurrection. When he had at length succeeded in crossing the Minho at Orense, Soult seized successively the towns of Chaves and Braga, which were scarcely defended. The chiefs of the insurgents had been constrained by their soldiers to this useless show of resistance, General Frere having been massacred by the militia whom he ordered to evacuate Braga. At Oporto the disorder was extreme; the population fought under the orders of the bishop. The attack had been cleverly arranged. At the moment when the bewildered crowd was pressing tumultuously over the bridge of boats across the Douro, the cables broke; men, women, and children were engulfed in the waves. In spite of the efforts of the general, the city was sacked. The long wars, the rude life of the camps, the daily habit of subsisting by pillage, had little by little relaxed the bonds of discipline. Marshal Soult established himself at Oporto, incapable of advancing even to Lisbon with his forces reduced by garrisoning towns, in presence of the English troops, who had not ceased to occupy the capital. He could not, or he would not make known at Madrid the position in which he found himself. Behind him the insurrection had closed every passage. He found himself isolated in Portugal, and conceived the thought of submitting the environs of Oporto to a regular and pacific government, re- establishing order all round, and constantly attentive to gain the favor of important persons. Perhaps the marshal raised his hopes even to the foundation of an independent and personal power, more durable than imperial conquests. It was with his consent that the draft of a popular pronunciamento was circulated in the provinces of Minho and Oporto, praying "his Excellency the Duke of Dalmatia to take the reins of government, to represent the sovereign, and to invest himself with all the attributes of supreme authority, until the emperor might designate a prince of his house or of his choice to reign over Portugal."

The sentiments of the army were divided, and an opposition was preparing to the schemes of the marshal, when the latter learned that an enemy more redoubtable than the Portuguese insurrection was threatening him in this province, where he had dreamed of founding a kingdom. Sir Arthur Wellesley had arrived at Lisbon on the 22nd of April, with reinforcements which swelled the English corps d'armee to 25,000 men; fifteen or twenty thousand Portuguese soldiers marched under his orders; a crowd of insurgents impeded rather than aided his operations. He advanced immediately against Marshal Soult, now for five weeks immovable at Oporto. On the 2nd of May he was at Coimbra. Well informed of the plots which were preparing at Oporto, to which a French officer named Argentan had been engaged to lend a hand, he resolved upon attacking as speedily as possible the positions of the marshal. When the latter was informed of the projects of the English general, retreat was already cut off in the valley of the Tamega by a strong assemblage of the insurgents, and in the valley of the Douro by the English general Beresford. Only one route remained still open to Marshal Soult—by Braga and the provinces of the north. Retreat was resolved upon, the powder saturated, the field artillery horsed; the departure was ordered for twelve at noon, and a part of the army was already defiling on the road to Amarante.

In the night between the 11th and 12th two English battalions had crossed the Douro at Avinto, three leagues above Oporto, collecting all the vessels which were to be found on the river, and descending the course of the stream under cover of the darkness. The army of Sir Arthur Wellesley had meanwhile occupied the suburbs of the left bank, concealing his movements behind the heights of La Sarca. Marshal Soult was ignorant of that operation. At daybreak a small body of picked men, boldly crossing the river within sight of our soldiers, took possession of an enclosure called the Seminary. Entrenching themselves there, and constantly receiving new reinforcements, the English made a desperate defence against the attempts of General Delaborde. The main body of the enemy's army beginning to fill all the streets of Oporto, the marshal at once sounded retreat, and the wounded and sick were left to the care of the English. When, on the evening of the 12th, the army reached the town of Baltar, Soult learned that the roads by Braga had been intercepted, as well as by the valley of the Douro. General Loison, unable to force the passage of the Tamega, had evacuated Amarante. The roads from the north would bring the army back to the suburbs of Oporto. The marshal, not wishing to risk a fresh encounter with the enemy, at once made up his mind to sacrifice without hesitation his baggage, ammunition, artillery, and even the greater part of the treasure of the army, to enter the mountain passes, and join at Guimaraens the divisions which had preceded him. When at last the army reached Orense, after seven days' marching, varied by small skirmishes, the soldiers were exhausted and depressed. Portugal was for the second time lost to us. Marshal Soult immediately marched towards Galicia, which had for two months been the theatre of Ney's operations, and freed Lugo, while that marshal was making a brilliant expedition in the Asturias along with General Kellermann. The two chiefs made an arrangement as to the measures to be taken against the insurgents who had assembled at St. Jago under the orders of the Marquis Romana; after which Soult was to march upon Old Castile as far as Zamora, to be near the English, who were said to be threatening the south of Portugal. Ney proposed to attack Vigo, where General Noriena had fortified himself, supported by the crews of several English vessels. From the very first, since the junction of the two armies, both officers and soldiers had exchanged keen and bitter recrimination. A better feeling, however, had reappeared, and the mutual good-will of the chiefs for each other silenced the ill-disposed. After their separation, Ney freed St. Jago; but after advancing to the suburbs of Vigo, and seeing its strong position, he waited for the result of Soult's movement against Romana.

Several days having elapsed, he learned that, after driving Romana back to Orense without fighting, and staying several days at Montforte, the marshal had taken the road to Zamora, without replying to the letters of his companion-in-arms. From information received from Lugo, Ney was persuaded that Soult's project had long been premeditated, and that he had of deliberate purpose broken the bargain stipulated between them. His anger burst forth with a violence proportioned to the frankness he had shown when treating with Soult, and this anger was shared by the officers and soldiers of his army. He at once determined to evacuate Galicia, which was threatened both by the English and the Spanish insurgents. Leaving a strong garrison at Ferrol, Ney slowly advanced towards Lugo, where he collected the sick and wounded left by Soult, and then returned to Astorga, in the beginning of July. He wrote to King Joseph: "If I had wished to resolve to leave Galicia without artillery, I could have remained there longer, at the risk of being hemmed in; but, avoiding such a mode of departure, I have retreated, bringing with me my sick and wounded, as well as those of Marshal Soult, left in my charge. I inform your Majesty that I have decided not to serve again in company with Marshal Soult."

King Joseph now had a most troublesome complication, and a position that daily became more serious. At one time, in April, he was in hopes of seeing his affairs right themselves again, in spite of the absence of all news of Soult's operations in Portugal. Marshal Victor, urged by the King of Spain and by his staff to obey the emperor's instructions and invade Andalusia, had crossed the Tagus in three columns, and, reforming again on the Guadiana, had, after passing that river, joined near Medellin Don Gregorio de la Cuesta, who retreated for several days before him. A severe battle having dispersed those large forces of the Spanish insurgents, on the 28th March, the marshal took up his position on the banks of the Guadiana, at the very time when General Sebastiani, at the head of two divisions, was defeating the army of Estremadura at Ciudad Real, and driving it back to the entrance of the Sierra Morena. There they awaited the movement ordered in the instructions given to Soult, the pivot of the whole campaign, projected by Napoleon before his departure for Paris. It was in Germany, just after the battle of Essling, that the emperor learned of the check caused to all his combinations by Soult's immobility at Oporto. Obstinate in directing himself the operations of armies at a distance, without the power of taking into account the state of public opinion, and without any knowledge of all that had occurred between the departure of the couriers and the arrival of peremptory orders no longer suitable to the situation, the emperor conceived the idea of concentrating three armies under one man. Making all personal considerations bend to the order of seniority, he entrusted the command to Marshal Soult, thus investing him with supreme authority over Marshals Mortier and Ney. The order reached Madrid at the moment when the leaders of the armies were most keenly antagonistic. "You will send a staff-officer to Spain," Napoleon had written to the minister of war, "with the orders that the forces of the Duke of Elchingen, the Duke of Trevisa, and the Duke of Dalmatia will form only one army, under the command of the Duke of Dalmatia. These forces must only move together, to march against the English, pursue them incessantly, defeat them, and throw them into the sea. Putting all considerations aside, I give the command to the Duke of Dalmatia, as being senior in rank. These forces ought to form from 50,000 to 60,000 men, and if the junction is promptly effected, the English will be destroyed, and the affairs of Spain arranged finally. But they must keep together, and not march in small parties. That principle applies to every country, but especially to a country where there can be no communication. I cannot appoint a place for the armies to meet, because I do not know what events have taken place. Forward this order to the king, to the Duke of Dalmatia, and to the two other marshals, by four different roads."

Whilst thus writing, constantly and justly apprehensive of the danger caused by the English army, Napoleon was still ignorant of the evacuation of Portugal. "Let your instructions to them be, to attack the enemy wherever they meet him," he said three days previously to General Clarke, "to renew their communications with the Duke of Dalmatia, and support him on the Minho. The English alone are to be feared; alone, if the army is not directed differently, they will in a few months lead it to a catastrophe."

The order sent by the emperor necessarily assisted in bringing about the catastrophe of which he was afraid. Marshal Soult, being deceived as to the plan of the English, and meditating an attack upon Portugal by Ciudad Rodrigo, wished to concentrate large forces for this purpose. He sent for Marshal Mortier, who was posted at Villacastin, where he covered Madrid, and demanded reinforcements from Aragon and Catalonia. The latter troops were refused him, and Generals Suchet and St. Cyr had great difficulty in keeping those two provinces in respect. Marshal Jourdan had foreseen the attack of the English on the Tagus, and was anxious about the position of Marshal Victor, isolated in Andalusia. Like the other leaders, the marshal acted independently, without attending to the orders from Madrid: he found himself compelled to fall back upon Talavera.

He was not to hold that post long. In spite of the extreme difficulty experienced by Sir Arthur Wellesley in maintaining a good understanding with his Spanish allies, he had marched to attack Marshal Victor, to whom King Joseph was sending reinforcements as quickly as he could. About 22,000 English soldiers were now on the field, reduced to such scarcity of provisions and money as to cause pillage and disorder, in spite of their commander's anger. Don Cuesta, with about 40,000 men under his orders, had been appointed, much against his will, to occupy the mountain passes. A Spanish army of 30,000 men, collected by General Venegas, was expected to join the two principal armies. On leaving Madrid, with the forces at his disposal, King Joseph had impressed upon Soult the necessity of attacking the enemy's rear, so that the Anglo-Spanish army might be crushed between superior forces. The marshal announced his departure.

Victor had had time to fall back upon Vargas, behind the Guadarama. Sir Arthur Wellesley crossed the Alberche, a tributary of the Tagus, and as soon as he found himself in presence of the enemy, wished to offer battle, urging Cuesta to join him in attacking Victor before the arrival of the enemy's reinforcements. The Spanish general declared that his honor was at stake in holding his positions, and absolutely refused to fight. The English alone, had not men enough at their disposal to contend with the French troops. Scarcely had the latter commenced their retreat when the Spanish, suddenly seized with the ardor of battle, rushed in pursuit, complaining that the "rascals withdrew so fast," wrote Cuesta to Wellesley, "that one cannot follow them in their flight." "If you run like that, you will get beaten," replied the English general, scornfully, annoyed at seeing himself perpetually thwarted in his able plans.

In fact when the Spaniards, a few days afterwards, at last engaged with the French, Marshal Victor's advance-guard were sufficient to drive Cuesta back as far as the English battalions, which had been prudently told off to support him. The fighting was gallant on the part of our troops, and helped to excite their ardor. King Joseph was urged to join battle: he feared an attack on Madrid, which he had been compelled to leave undefended, and reckoned upon the rapid movements of Soult, who had received orders to advance with all haste from Salamanca to Placentia. He had no experience of war, and neglected to take into account the chances of delay and the loss of troops during the march. Marshal Victor was daring, full of contempt for the Spanish troops, and ignorant of the qualities of the English army, which had not for a long time been seen on the continent. The French army advanced upon Talavera, which was strongly held by Sir Arthur. Hampered by the obstinacy and want of discipline of his Spanish allies, the English general had relinquished all attempts at daring, entrenching himself on the defensive. Marshal Soult had not arrived, being unable, he wrote, to effect his operation on the enemy's rear before the beginning of August. On the 27th of July, however, on occupying the ground before the English positions at Talavera, Victor gave orders to attack a height which was badly defended, and was driven back with heavy loss. Marshal Jourdan insisted on a delay of a few days, to allow Soult time to arrive; but the anxiety of King Joseph, and Victor's impatience, gained the day, and on the 28th, at daybreak, they attacked the mamelon, already threatened on the 27th.

Our troops gained the top under the English fire, but Sir Arthur had doubled the ranks of those in defence, and a terrible charge under General Hill compelled the French again to abandon the position.

The check was serious, and the soldiers began to be discouraged. By common consent, and without orders given by the leaders, the fight ceased. The English and French crowded on the two banks of a small brook which separated the two armies, and all quenched their thirst, without suspicion of treason or perfidy, and without a single shot being fired on either side. The French generals again discussed the question of resuming hostilities. "If this mamelon is not taken," exclaimed Victor, impetuously, "we should not take any part in a campaign." King Joseph, deficient in authority both of position and character, gave way. Sir Arthur Wellesley, seated on the grass at the top of a hill, surveyed the enemy's lines, and the defences, which he had just strengthened by a division, and a battery of artillery obtained with great difficulty from Cuesta. Till then the English had borne the brunt of the fighting; on General Donkin coming to tell Sir Arthur that the Spanish were betraying him, the general-in-chief quietly said, "Go back to your division." The attack was again begun, and this time directed against the whole line of the English positions, while Village's brigade turned the mamelon to assail them in flank.

At this moment a charge of the enemy's cavalry poured upon our columns. A German regiment followed Seymour's dragoons, but were stopped by a watercourse, and pulled up: the English horsemen alone, boldly crossing the obstacle, made a furious attack on the French ranks, which opened to let them pass. In their daring impetuosity the dragoons went as far as our rear-guard, where they were stopped by new forces, and finally brought back with great loss to the foot of the mamelon. They stopped the flank movement however; and the centre of the English army, shaken for a moment, formed again round Colonel Donellan after a brilliant charge, and our soldiers were again driven back towards their position. The losses were great on both sides. The English did not attempt to pursue their advantages, and when the fight had ceased were satisfied with encamping on the heights of Talavera. Next day the French army withdrew beyond the Alberche without being disturbed by the enemy, and waited finally for Marshal Soult's arrival.

He appeared on the 2nd of August at Placentia, too late for his glory as well as for the success of the French arms, though in time to modify Wellesley's plans. The latter had commenced to advance towards him, thinking he should meet forces inferior to his own; but Mortier had already followed Soult, Ney's troops were advancing by Salamanca, and King Joseph was preparing to put under him all his regiments, except those accompanying General Sebastiani in his march towards Madrid. Sir Arthur Wellesley understood the dangers of his position: his troops were tired, and badly fed; and not wishing to risk again the lot of arms, he hurriedly re-crossed the Tagus, taking care to blow the bridges up, and fell back upon Truxillo, by the rugged mountain passes. The want of a proper understanding, and the mutual distrust which during the whole campaign had reigned between the English and Spanish, had borne their fruits. Wellesley's soldiers, deprived of the resources to which they had been accustomed, and which they had a right to expect from their allies, died in great numbers in their encampments on the bank of the Guadiana: their wounded had been abandoned at Talavera, when Cuesta evacuated that position. Sir Arthur gave vent to his bitter complaints in writing to Frere, the English charge d'affaires at the insurgents' head-quarters: "I wish the members of the Junta, before blaming me for not doing more, and charging me beforehand with the probable results of the faults and imprudence of others, would be good enough to come here, or send somebody to supply the wants of our army dying of hunger, and actually after fighting two days, and defeating in the service of Spain an enemy of twice their number, without bread to eat. It is a positive fact that for the last seven days the English army has not received a third of its provisions, that at this moment there are 4000 wounded soldiers dying for want of the care and necessaries which any other country in the world would have supplied, even to its enemies, and that I can derive assistance of no kind from the country. I cannot even get leave to bury the dead bodies in the neighborhood. We are told that the Spanish troops sometimes behave well: I confess that I have never seen them behave otherwise than badly."

The emperor's anger was extreme on learning the check our troops had received at Talavera. He wrote to Marshal Jourdan, indignantly recapitulating all the blunders made during the campaign, without at all considering the difficulties everywhere caused by orders sent from a distance, in ignorance of the actual facts of the situation. "When at last they decided to give battle," Napoleon summed up, "it was done without energy, since my arms were disgraced. Battle should not be given, unless seventy chances in one's favor can be counted upon beforehand: even then, one should not offer battle unless there are no more chances to be hoped for, since the lot of battle is from its nature always doubtful: but once the resolution is taken, one must conquer or perish, and the French eagles must not withdraw till all have equally put forth every effort. There must have been a combination of all these faults before an army like my army of Spain could have been beaten by 30,000 English: but so long as they will attack good troops, like the English ones, in good positions, without reconnoitring these positions, without being certain of carrying them, they will lead my men to death, and for nothing at all."

The Spanish armies were, after the battle scattered everywhere, according to their custom, to appear again in a short time like swarms of wasps to harass our soldiers. Sir Arthur Wellesley entrenched himself at Badajoz, ready to fall back upon Portugal. No definitive result had crowned the bloody campaign just completed, but it had an influence upon the negotiations then being carried on in Spain. An attempt, long prepared by the English, and to which they attached a great importance, now occupied the Emperor Napoleon's mind still more than the affairs of Spain.

For several weeks it was believed that the great maritime expedition organized on the coasts of England was for the purpose of carrying overwhelming reinforcements to Spain. A first attempt, of less importance, was directed against our fleets collected at the island of Aix, near Rochefort. Admiral Willaumez, in charge of an expedition to the Antilles, had to rally the squadrons of Lorient and Rochefort, and being unavoidably delayed at the latter place, it was there that Admiral Gambier came to attack our vessels. Vice-Admiral Allemand carefully fortified the isle of Aix against an attack, the nature of which he had foreseen, though not the extent. During the night of the 11th and 12th April, conducted by several divisions, composed of frigates and brigs, thirty large fire-ships were suddenly launched against our vessels, exploding in all directions, breaking the wooden bars by the weight of their burning masses, adhering to the sides of the ships and compelling even those which they did not set on fire to go aside to avoid dangers which were more to be dreaded. Thanks to the skill and bravery of our sailors, none of the vessels perished by fire; but four of them ran aground at the mouth of the Charente, and were attacked by the English. The Calcutta surrendered after several hours' fighting—her commander, Captain Lafon, having to pay with his life for the weak resistance he is said to have made. The English blew up the Aquilon and Varsovie, and Captain Ronciere himself set fire to the Tonnerre, after landing all his crew. Napoleon's continued efforts to form a rival navy in France constituted a standing menace to England. After the cruel expedition of the isle of Aix, the principal effort was to be directed against Antwerp, always an object of English jealousy and dissatisfaction, as a commercial port, or as a place of war. The works which the emperor had been carrying on there increased their anxiety, and on the 29th July forty vessels of the line and thirty frigates appeared in sight of the island of Walcheren. From 700 to 800 transport-ships brought an army to be landed, under the orders of Lord Chatham, Pitt's elder brother, and containing about 40,000 men, with much artillery. The emperor was at once informed, and M. Decres, minister of the marine, proposed to station at Flushing the fleet of Admiral Missiessy. The latter refused, saying that he would not let himself be taken, and did not wish to see his crews decimated by the Walcheren fever. That was the auxiliary upon which Napoleon reckoned against the English expedition; and rightly, too.

Walcheren was slightly and badly fortified; the emperor considering Flushing to be quite impregnable. "You say that the bombardment of Flushing makes you apprehensive of its surrender," he wrote on the 22nd August. "You are wrong to have any such fear. Flushing is impregnable so long as there is bread in it, and they have enough for six months. Flushing is impregnable, because there is a moat full of water, which must be crossed; and finally, because by cutting the dykes they can inundate the whole island. Write and tell everywhere that Flushing cannot be taken, unless by the cowardice of the commandants; and also that I am certain of it, and that the English will go off without having it. The bombs are nothing—absolutely nothing; they will destroy a few houses, but that has no effect upon the surrender of a place."

General Monnet, who commanded at Flushing, was an old officer of the revolution wars, brave and daring and he did his best in opposing the landing of the English, with a part of his forces, and in gallantly defending the place; but the inundation did not succeed, on account of the elevation of the ground and the wind being contrary. Therefore when Napoleon wrote to Fouche, Flushing had already capitulated, under the efforts of the most formidable siege artillery. The Dutch commandant surrendered the forts Denhaak and Terwecre at the same time as Middelburg. The feeling of the Dutch nation, formerly favorable to republican France, had been modified since the imperial decrees ruined all the transit trade, the source of Holland's wealth. King Louis alone hastened to the assistance of the French army, advancing with his little army between Santvliet and Antwerp. Four Dutch regiments were fighting in Germany, and a small corps had been sent into Spain. Thus, while extending his enterprises in remote parts, the unbounded ambition of Napoleon left unprotected the very centre of his empire.

General Rousseau, however, succeeded in protecting the island of Cadsand, and Admiral Strachan and Lord Chatham recalled to the eastern Scheldt the forces which had been intended for the attack on that island. The English forces began to land upon the islands of North and South Beveland, in order to attack Fort Batz at the junction of the two Scheldts, and thus outflank the French fleet lying in the western Scheldt. Fortunately, Admiral Missiessy had the advantage over the English commanders in speed, and sailing up into the higher Scheldt, formed by the two branches of the river, he arranged his vessels under forts Lillo and Liefkenshoek which by their cross-fires protected the river from bank to bank. Antwerp was thus safe from attack by sea; at Paris there was great anxiety as to attacks by land.

A few provisional demi-brigades, the gendarmes, and picked national guards, about 30,000 men altogether—such were the forces at the disposal of the war minister. He durst not—nobody durst, change the destination of the troops already marching to Germany. The minister of marine and Fouche at once proposed a general levy of the national guard, under the orders of Bernadotte—one being daring and dissatisfied, the other fostering discontent of every kind openly or secretly, and still remembering the revolutionary procedure. The Council, presided over by the Arch-chancellor Cambaceres, refused to authorize the calling out of the national guards without the emperor's express order; but Fouche, without waiting for orders, wrote on his own authority to all the prefects, and stirred up everywhere a patriotic zeal. At first Napoleon approved of the ardor of his minister of police, and severely rated the arch-chancellor and minister of war for their prudence. "I cannot conceive what you are about in Paris," he wrote to General Clarke on the 10th August; "you must be waiting for the English to come and take you in your beds. When 25,000 English are attacking our dockyards and threatening our provinces, is the ministry doing nothing? What trouble is there in raising 60,000 of the national guard? What trouble is there in sending the Prince of Pontecorvo to take the command there, where there is nobody? What trouble is there in putting my strongholds, Antwerp, Ostend, and Lille, in a state of siege? It is inconceivable. There is none but Fouche who appears to me to have done what he could, and to have felt the inconvenience of remaining in a dangerous and dishonorable position:—dangerous, because the English, seeing that France is not in movement, and that no impulse is given to public opinion, will have nothing to fear, and will not hurry to leave our territory; dishonorable, because it shows fear of opinion, and allows 25,000 English to burn our dockyards without defending them. The slur thus cast upon France is a perpetual disgrace. Circumstances vary from moment to moment. It is impossible for me to give orders to arrive within a fortnight. The ministers have the same power as I, since they can hold a council and pass decisions. Make use of the Prince of Pontecorvo—make use of General Moncey. I send you besides Marshal Bessieres, to remain in Paris in reserve. I have ordered a levy of 30,000 men of the national guard. If the English make progress, make a second levy of 30,000 in the same or other departments. It is evident that the enemy, feeling the difficulty of taking Flushing, intend marching straight to Antwerp, to make a sudden attempt upon the squadron."

Flushing had succumbed, but the operations of the English were delayed by their indecisive generalship. Hope's division easily took possession of Fort Batz, but the main body of the army remained behind. The fortifications of Antwerp were daily increased and strengthened. The engineers, under Decaux, who checked the warlike ardor of King Louis, rendered the forts impregnable to sudden assault, inundated the country all round, and erected the old dams on the Scheldt; and troops also began to arrive, rapidly concentrating upon the threatened spot. According to the emperor's order the Prince of Pontecorvo had set out for Antwerp, and took the command there. While the army was being formed round the town, the English with great difficulty got their fleet into the Scheldt as far as Fort Batz. Their forces being already considerably reduced by the fever, and the preparations made at Antwerp to receive them causing Lord Chatham some uneasiness, he held a council of war on the 26th, and sent their decision to London, where it was approved by the ministry. It was too late now to attack Antwerp, the opportunity having been lost; and the huge army, collected with so much display, fell back upon the island of Walcheren, and a large number of the vessels sailed for the Downs. Every day 800 casks of fresh water were brought from the Downs to the garrison still occupying Flushing, Middelburg, and the forts. The English were completely checked; and there were already signs that they might evacuate the island of Walcheren altogether.

The emperor triumphed at Schoenbrunn. Advising his generals not to attack the English, but to leave them to be killed by ague, he congratulated himself on the unexpected reinforcement thus gained by his army. "It is a continuation of the good fortune attending our present circumstances," he wrote, "that this expedition, which has reduced to nothing England's greatest effort, gives us an army of 24,000 men, which otherwise we should have been unable to get." He at once made use of it to organize the new army of the north, suddenly called out by the country's danger. At the same time, by a strong instinct of government, he severely blamed the revolutionary movement which Fouche had excited in the departments. On the 26th September he wrote to him: "I have your letter informing me that the 'cadres' of the regiment for the national guard are formed everywhere. I know it, but am not pleased at it. Such a measure cannot be taken without my order. There has been too great haste; all that has been done will not hasten by a single hour the arming of the national guard, if they are needed. That causes fermentation, whereas it would have been sufficient to put in movement the national guards of the military divisions which I have indicated. Then you call out the national guards of Flanders to assist on the frontiers by which the enemy intend invading Flanders; the reason is obvious. But when there is a levy in Languedoc, Piedmont, Burgundy, people think there is an agitation, though there is none. My intentions are not fulfilled, and I am put to unnecessary expense."

The command, accordingly, was withdrawing from the Prince of Pontecorvo, who, though always called to serve at the moment of danger, was considered fickle and suspicious by the emperor. "You will let him know," wrote Napoleon to his minister of war, "that I am displeased with his 'order of the day;' that it is not true that he had only 15,000 men, when, with the soldiers of the Duke of Conegliano and Istria, I have on the Scheldt more than 60,000 men; but that even if he only had 15,000, his duty was to give the enemy no hint of it. It is the first time that a general, from excess of vanity, has been seen to betray the secret of his position. He at the same time eulogized the national guards, who know very well themselves that they have had no opportunity of doing anything. You will also express to him my dissatisfaction with his Paris correspondence, and insist upon his ceasing to receive mischievous letters from the wretches whom he encourages by such conduct. The third point as to which you will indicate to him my intentions is, that he should go to the army or to the waters."

The useless attempt of the English at Walcheren, and their prudent retreat from Antwerp, was made use of by the French diplomatists who were still discussing the terms of peace at Altenburg. The Emperor Napoleon, however, was tired of the delays of their negotiations. Being now certain that Austria could have no more support, he received Bubna and Prince John of Lichtenstein, who had been sent to him directly by the Emperor Francis. Napoleon haughtily dwelt upon the value of the concessions which he had already granted. "What!" said he to the envoys, "I had not yet relinquished the principle of the uti possidetis, and now I relinquish it at your emperor's request! I claimed 400,000 souls of the population of Bohemia, now I cease to demand them! I wished 800,000 souls in Upper Austria, and I am satisfied with 400,000! I asked for 1,400,000 souls in Carinthia and Carniola, and I give up Klagenfurth, which is a further sacrifice of 200,000 souls. I therefore restore to your master a population of a million of subjects, and he says I have made no concession! I have only kept what is necessary to keep the enemy away from Passau and the Inn—what is necessary to connect the territories of Italy and Dalmatia; yet they persuade him that I have not modified any of my demands! It is thus that they have led on the Emperor Francis to war; it is thus that they will finally bring him to ruin!" He refrained, however, from replying to the Emperor Francis's letter. "It were undignified for me to say to a prince, 'You don't know what you say;' but that is what I find myself compelled to say, since his letter is founded upon an error." "Leave vain repetitions and silliness to the Austrians," he wrote to Champagny. At the same time he reviewed his troops, and hurried the movements of the reinforcements which were arriving. The Emperor Alexander had received Austria's promise to make a speedy settlement, refusing to take part in the negotiations, and trusting that Napoleon would look after his interests. The only point which he reserved was the Polish question: he was afraid of the increase of the grand duchy of Warsaw. "Your Majesty can give me a certain pledge of your friendship towards me," he wrote to Napoleon on the 31st August, "by recalling what I frequently said at Tilsit and Erfurt, as to the interests of Russia with reference to the affairs of Poland (lately so-called), and what I have since instructed your ambassador to repeat to you."

It was precisely upon Galicia that the ambitious views of Napoleon were at that moment directed. Being repeatedly pressed by the Austrian envoys to explain his definitive intentions, he at last declared that he wished Carniola, the circle of Wilbach, and the right bank of the Save as far as Bosnia; ceding Linz, and keeping Salzburg. He thus became master of 1,500,000 souls in Austria. In Galicia he claimed all the territory which Austria had obtained at the second partition of Poland, as well as the circles of Solkiew and Zeloczow, which he intended to cede to Russia, in order to restrain her displeasure. The population of these territories amounted to 2,000,000 souls. To these conditions Napoleon added a war contribution of 100,000,000, and the obligation of Austria reducing her army to 150,000 men. The Austrian diplomatists succeeded in getting off 15,000,000 from the military contribution. That was the only favor granted. "I have given Austria the most advantageous peace she could expect," wrote Napoleon to the Emperor Alexander, on the 10th October, 1809. "She only cedes Salzburg and a small district on the Inn; she cedes nothing in Bohemia; and on the Italian side she only cedes what is indispensable to me for communication with Dalmatia. The monarchy therefore remains entire. It is a second experiment which I wished to make, and I have shown towards her a moderation which she had no right to expect. In doing so I trust to have pleased your Majesty. You will see that, in accordance with your desires, the greater part of Galicia does not change masters, and that I have been as careful of your interests as you could have been yourself, by reconciling everything with what honor demands from me. For the prosperity and well-being of the duchy of Warsaw, it is necessary that it should be in your Majesty's good graces; and the subjects of your Majesty may be assured that in no case, on no contingency, ought they to expect any protection from me."

So many protestations and flattering assurances could not destroy the effect of the development of the grand duchy of Warsaw, and the constant menace created for Russia by that partial resuscitation of a Poland submitted to French influence. The Emperor Alexander made Caulaincourt sensible of this by a few sharp words. The secret discord was now increasing between the two allies, in proportion as the divergence of their interests made itself felt. The unreasonable passions of Napoleon were soon to open between them the gulf into which he was to drag France.

The Tyrol was not included in the negotiations of peace, any more than in the armistice. When at last the treaty was signed at Vienna, on the 20th October, a few days after the discovery of a plot to assassinate Napoleon, the fighting was still continued in the mountains with the keen determination of despair. In vain did Prince Eugene offer the insurgents a general pardon, confirming the subservience of their country; the peasants proudly rejected the conditions offered them. Crushed by the combined French and Bavarian forces, the Tyrolese succumbed with glory: their popular leader, Andrew Hofer, was taken in a remote mountain retreat where he had taken refuge, brought to Mantua on the 19th January, 1810, and there shot on the 25th February, by Napoleon's express order. "I gave you instructions to have Hofer brought to Paris," wrote Napoleon to the Viceroy of Italy; "but since he is at Mantua, send an order to have him tried at once by court-martial, and shot on the spot. Let it be an affair of twenty-four hours." Hofer underwent his fate with an heroic and pious simplicity. It was only in 1824 that Austria paid to this humble patriot the honors due to his memory, his body being then transported to Innsbruck, and buried there with pomp in the cathedral. A statue was placed on his tomb.



CHAPTER XII.

THE DIVORCE (1809-1810).

On his return to France, after the peace of Vienna, the Emperor Napoleon, though triumphant and all-powerful to those who looked only on the surface, felt secretly conscious that his supreme prestige had been shaken. He experienced the necessity of strengthening and consolidating his conquests by some startling act, and of finally founding upon immovable bases that empire which he had raised by his victorious hands without ever believing it really permanent. The advances made at Erfurt towards a family alliance with the Emperor of Russia remained without any result, in spite of the friendly protestations of the Emperor Alexander; and since Napoleon's return to Paris those admitted to his closest intimacy detected a perceptible change in his manner. "He seemed to be walking in the midst of his glory," wrote the Arch-chancellor Cambaceres. It was to him that Napoleon first broached the project of divorce, which was soon to become a settled determination. The loving tone in which he wrote to her as his wife might well deceive the Empress Josephine; for Napoleon still retained some love for her, though it was powerless in hindering his ambitious resolutions. The rumor of the great event was already spreading in Paris and Europe, though Josephine was still unaware of it. She was uneasy, however, and numerous indications daily increased her anxiety: her children shared her apprehension. The whole of the imperial family were assembled about their renowned head, divided as they were in their inclinations and interests; and Napoleon had himself summoned Prince Eugene to Paris.

Under the emperor's order, Champagny had already written to Caulaincourt: "You will wait upon the Emperor Alexander, and speak to him in these terms: 'Sire, I have reason to believe that the emperor, at the request of the whole of France, is making arrangements for a divorce. May I write to say that they can reckon on your sister? Let your Majesty take two days to consider it, and give me frankly your reply, not as French ambassador, but as a man warmly devoted to both families. It is not a formal request that I now make; it is a confidential expression of your intentions that I beg from you. I am too much accustomed to tell your Majesty all my thoughts to be afraid of ever being compromised by you.'"

Caulaincourt was greatly perplexed. The peace of Vienna had been badly received at St. Petersburg, and had caused so many complaints and recriminations that the French ambassador found himself compelled to appease the irritation which threatened to break the alliance, by translating Napoleon's promises into official engagements. The terms of the convention were agreed upon by the diplomatists, and it was about to be signed. Napoleon engaged never to re-establish the kingdom of Poland; the names Poland and Polish were to disappear in all the acts; the grand duchy could not for the future be increased by annexing any part of the old Polish monarchy: the conditions of the convention were binding upon the King of Saxony, Grand Duke of Warsaw. At the same time that he was begged to accept this unsuitable engagement, Napoleon had harshly reminded his ally of the inaction of his forces during the war. "I wish," said he, "that in the discussions which take place, the Duke of Vicentia should make the following remarks to Romanzoff: 'You are sensible that there is nothing of the past that the emperor has laid hold of: in the affairs of Austria you made no sign. How has the emperor acted? He has given you a province which more than repays all the expense you have incurred for the war; and openly declares that you have joined to your empire Finland, Moldavia, and Wallachia.'"

However delicate the circumstances and question were which Caulaincourt had to propose, he obeyed. The Emperor Alexander was not disinclined to listen to the proposals, but would have preferred first to make sure of the signature to the convention relative to Poland as the price of his acceptance. The empress mother, dissatisfied and spiteful, suggested religious objections. The kind considerations of Napoleon seemed boundless. The Emperor Alexander and his advisers asked time to consider.

Meantime the projected divorce had become known in Paris, even in the bosom of the imperial family. Napoleon could not longer keep his secret. In presence of the vague uneasiness of the empress his mind was burdened with some feeling of remorse for the act which he was secretly meditating, and he at last gave her some hint of his intention, as well as of the reasons for his decision, and the pain it had caused him. The unhappy Josephine screamed, and fell fainting. When she recovered consciousness, she was supported by her daughter the Queen of Holland, who was also in tears, and proudly offended at the harshness which Napoleon had shown her in the first moment of his anger at the sight of Josephine's sufferings. Soon moved by the return of better and truer sentiments which still exercised a certain influence upon him, the emperor shared the sorrows of the mother and daughter, without for a moment relaxing by word or thought the determination which he had formed. Prince Eugene, as well as Queen Hortense, had declared their intentions of following their mother in her retirement; Napoleon opposed it, and overwhelmed with presents and favors the wife whom he was forsaking for reasons of state. Two days after solemnly breaking the tie by which they were united, he wrote to her at Malmaison, with much genuine affection in spite of his strange and imperious style:—"My dear, you seem to me to-day weaker than you ought to be. You showed courage, and you will do so again in order to support yourself. You must not let yourself sink into a fatal melancholy. You must be happy, and, before everything, take care of your health, which is so precious to me. If you are fond of me and love me, you ought to show some energy, and make yourself happy. You understand my sentiments towards you very imperfectly, if you imagine that I can be happy when you are not so, and satisfied when you are still anxious. Good-bye, darling; pleasant dreams! Be assured that I am sincere."

The Empress Josephine had often shown a fickle character and frivolous mind; but being kind, obliging, and gifted with a grace that had gained her many friends before her greatness had surrounded her with courtiers and flatterers, she was popular; and the public, who were not in favor of the divorce, sympathized with her sorrow. On the 15th December, 1809, in a formally summoned meeting of the imperial family, with the arch-chancellor and Count Regnault d'Angely also present, Napoleon himself openly announced the resolution which he had taken. "The policy of my monarchy, the interest and wants of my peoples which have invariably guided all my actions, require," said he, "that I should leave this throne on which Providence has placed me, to children inheriting my love for my peoples. For several years, however, I have lost hopes of having children by my marriage with my well-beloved spouse the Empress Josephine, which urges me to sacrifice the dearest affections of my heart, to consider only the well-being of the State, and to will the dissolution of our marriage. God knows how much such a resolution has cost my heart; but there is no sacrifice which is beyond my courage, if proved to be useful to the well- being of France."

The Empress Josephine wished to speak, but her voice was choked by her tears; she handed to Count Regnault the paper evidencing her assent to the emperor's wishes. A few words spoken by Prince Eugene, as he took his place in the Senate, confirmed the sacrifice; and by a "senatus-consulte" the civil marriage was formally dissolved. The religious marriage gave rise to greater difficulty. The absence of the proper cure and of the witnesses required by the rules of the Church served as a pretext, in spite of the protestations of Cardinal Fesch, who had celebrated the marriage, and declared that the Pope had granted him full dispensation. There was no intention of consulting the pontiff on this occasion. The emperor sent an address to the magistracy of Paris, like the meanest of his subjects, declaring that his consent had not been complete; he had only agreed to a useless formality with the object of tranquillising the conscience of the empress and that of the holy father, feeling certain since then that he must have recourse to a divorce. The scruples of the ecclesiastics were overcome; and the religious marriage declared null by the diocesan and metropolitan authorities. The news was inserted in the Moniteur, together with the decree settling upon the repudiated empress a magnificent dowry.

The reply from St. Petersburg, however, was still forthcoming, and the emperor began to feel very angry. The King of Saxony had already made overtures, offering the hand of his daughter to his illustrious ally; and soon still more flattering hopes were aroused. The peace party ruled in Vienna, Metternich having replaced Stadion in power; and some words of Swartzenburg, the new ambassador at Paris, seemed to imply matrimonial advances. The Archduchess Marie-Louise was eighteen years of age, amiable and gentle in disposition: the alliance was a brilliant one, and would permanently establish a good understanding between Austria and France. Many intrigues were now started: those of the politicians or courtiers who held to the old regime by tradition or taste were in favor of the Austrian marriage; they were supported by Prince Eugene, Queen Hortense, and even by the Empress Josephine herself, though not avowedly. The imperial family and councillors, sprung from the French Revolution, had a repugnance to alliance with the house of Austria, as a return towards the past, which was still present to the minds of all: they dwelt upon the dangers of a rupture with Russia, who would be indignant at seeing herself scorned after being sought for. There were fewer objections on the side of Austria, already beaten and humiliated. The emperor hesitated, and twice consulted his most intimate council. At the second sitting his mind was made up. The delay of Russia had stirred up his anger, and, according to his custom, he listened only to his haughty and implacable will. Orders were given to Caulaincourt to overthrow the negotiations respecting the Grand Duchess Catherine. Marriage with the Archduchess Marie-Louise was resolved upon.

The Emperor Francis showed none of the repugnance or hesitation which irritated Napoleon against the Russians. No gloomy forecast seems to have passed through the minds of that august family, which had formerly seen Marie-Antoinette leave Vienna to sit at Paris upon a fatal throne. Yet all the efforts of both the emperors tended to suggest constant analogies. Napoleon's contract was copied from the act which united the destinies of Louis XVI. and Marie-Antoinette. The marriage ceremonial was throughout the same, with the redoubled splendor of an unprecedented magnificence. The new empress had willingly accepted the throne which was offered her. The Archduke Charles agreed to represent the Emperor Napoleon at the celebration of the official marriage. Marshal Berthier, major-general of the Imperial army, was appointed to go and fetch the princess. Her first lady of honor was the Duchess of Montebello, widow of Marshal Lannes, who was killed at Wagram. The tragical remembrances of by-gone alliances between France and the reigning house of Austria, the bitter and bloodstained recollections of recent struggles, seemed to serve only to enhance the brilliancy of the new ties uniting the two countries. The Emperor Napoleon took possession of the imperial family, as he had recently conquered their capital and occupied their palaces. The people of Paris thought they saw in this alliance a final and permanent triumph: and the magnificence of the fetes given in honor of the young empress's arrival increased their intoxication. "She brings news to the world of peaceful days," was the inscription on all the triumphal arches.

In fact the world was hopeful but men of foresight and wisdom were not deceived. There were germs of discord everywhere, in spite of the appearance of peace. Fighting was still going on in Spain, and the obstinacy of the Spanish insurgents equalled the perseverance of Sir Arthur Wellesley. The Emperor Alexander had courteously congratulated Caulaincourt upon the assurance of peace between Austria and France, resulting from the projected union; at the same time not failing to point out the contradictory negotiations simultaneously carried on by Napoleon at St. Petersburg and Vienna. The substitution, which the emperor had just proposed, of a new convention for the articles decided upon in the Polish question, deeply excited the Czar's displeasure. "It is not I who shall disturb the peace of Europe or attack any one," said he, with a keen and determined irony; "but if they come to look for me, I shall defend myself."

Another protestation, startling in its silence, annoyed the imperious ruler of Europe. Most of the cardinals had been brought to Paris, not without some threats of physical compulsion, several of them weakly hoping to obtain important concessions. Cardinal Consalvi energetically supported the courage of a large number, who were determined to take no part in the emperor's religious marriage, as being illegal. They told Cardinal Fesch of their intention, adding, that they would afterwards wait upon the empress to be presented, but that they were bound to defend the rights of the holy seat, injured on that occasion by the appeal pure and simple to the magistracy of Paris. "That," said Cardinal Consalvi, "was wounding the emperor in the apple of the eye." "They will never dare!" answered Napoleon, angrily, when his uncle told him of the resolution of the cardinals.

Thirteen of them dared, notwithstanding. When, on the 2nd April, 1810, the Emperor Napoleon entered the great saloon of the Louvre, changed for that day into a chapel, after casting his eyes over the crowd who thronged the benches and galleries, he turned towards his chaplain, Abbe Pradt, and said, "Where are the cardinals? I don't see any." There were, however, fourteen there, though not enough to conceal the number of absentees. "There are many here," replied the abbe, "and several are old and infirm." "Ah! the idiots! the idiots!" exclaimed the emperor. He again repeated those words when the ceremony began.

Napoleon's anger was especially directed against Cardinal Consalvi. "The rest have their theological prejudices," said he, "but he has offended me on political grounds; he is my enemy; he has dared to lay a trap for me by holding out against my dynasty a pretext of illegitimacy. They will not fail to make use of it after my death, when I am no longer there to keep them in awe!" On the day after the marriage the whole court were to defile before the new empress, and the cardinals were in attendance with the utmost punctuality, as they had announced. After the distinguished assemblage had waited three hours, an aide-de-camp came to announce the order that the prelates who had not been present on the previous evening in the chapel of the Louvre were to withdraw, because the emperor would not receive them. On the same day, Napoleon wrote to M. Bigot de Preameneu: "Several cardinals did not come yesterday, although invited, to the ceremony of my marriage. They have, therefore, failed in an essential duty towards me. I wish to know the names of those cardinals, and which of them are bishops in France, in my kingdom of Italy, or in the kingdom of Naples. My intention is to discharge them from their office, and suspend the payment of their salaries by no longer regarding them as cardinals."

In the first impulse of his anger, Napoleon thought of summoning the rebel prelates before a special court. "Since there is no ecclesiastical jurisdiction in France," said he to the minister of public worship, "nothing prevents them from being condemned." He was contented, however, with making use only of his own supreme authority. Despoiled of the insignia of their ecclesiastical dignity—which procured them the nickname of the "black cardinals"—and deprived of their private fortunes as well as of the revenues of their dioceses, which had been sequestered by the treasury, Consalvi and his colleagues were interned, two and two, in towns assigned to them for the purpose, put under police supervision, and reduced to the most precarious means of living. "Without the Pope they are nothing," said Napoleon. The Pope was still kept at Savona, meekly inflexible, like the cardinals.

A few men thus resolutely opposed their wills to the formidable power of the Emperor Napoleon. Just after the peace of Vienna, his hands filled with new conquests, he modified the frontiers of several of the states which he had recently formed or increased; some territories he yielded up, others he took back; to some he was prodigal of his favors, to others he denied them. He showed at this time special severity towards King Louis, a prince who was naturally of a serious, honorable, and upright character, and had tried sincerely to fulfil his duties as king towards the Dutch. He thought it his duty to protect against Napoleon himself the subjects which the latter had given him, and whom he saw ruined by the arbitrary acts of the imperial power. When, at the end of 1809, the emperor's family all met in Paris, King Louis had great difficulty in persuading himself to obey the order by which he was summoned. Napoleon had already threatened Holland in his speech at the opening of the Legislative Body. "Placed between England and France, the principal arteries of my empire meet there," said the emperor. "Changes will be necessary; the safety of my frontiers, and naturally the interests of both countries, imperiously demand it." Zealand and Brabant had not been evacuated by our troops, who advanced there when the English took possession of the island of Walcheren.

It was the union of Holland and France which Napoleon then intended, and he did not conceal it from his brother. Recriminations and reproaches were only followed by an obstinate determination. "Holland is really only a part of France," said the minister of the interior, officially, "and it is time she held her natural position." This determination was announced to Louis on his arrival in Paris. "That is the most deadly blow I can inflict upon England," said Napoleon.

The King of Holland had long and frequently cursed the imperious will which had called him to the throne. He had extolled the charms of private life; when abdication was, as it were, forced upon him, he drew back and defended himself. Napoleon insisted upon having a disguised national bankruptcy, an increase of their navy for French service alone, the strict application of the "continental blockade," which till then had been frequently evaded by the Dutch merchants, the rejection of the honorary titles accepted or created by his brother for the benefit of his subjects. King Louis struggled against such hateful conditions, implying the ruin of his adopted country as well as of his personal authority in Holland. The intimate relationship of the imperial family was disturbed by the discussions carried on between the two brothers; Champagny naturally had some share in them, and Fouche also. Napoleon seemed to become more reasonable. Nevertheless, he wished to take advantage of the alarm he had caused, and make its influence extend even to England. A trustworthy agent was appointed to inform the English ministry of the impending union between France and Holland, and the consequent danger for England; vast armaments were said to be prepared in our harbors. Peace was the only means of avoiding so many dangers; Holland would do herself honor by assisting to guarantee Europe of a rest now become possible by Napoleon's union with Marie-Louise.

Labouchere, descended from a family of French refugees, was appointed by the emperor, in the name of King Louis, to carry these overtures to the English cabinet. On account of the unfortunate campaign in Walcheren, which caused universal indignation in England, Canning and Castlereagh had been replaced in power by Perceval and the Marquis Wellesley, elder brother of Sir Arthur, formerly governor-general of India and the intimate friend of Pitt. He courteously received Labouchere, who was introduced by his brother-in-law, Mr. Baring, one of the principal bankers in London. It was not the first time that overtures of peace had reached the ministry. On his own account, and from the incessant passion for intrigue which seemed to haunt him everywhere, Fouche had instructed one of his agents to make to Lord Wellesley advances which had no real aim or earnestness. To these, as well as those, the English cabinet replied that they were firmly resolved never to abandon Spain or the kingdom of Naples to Bonaparte. Holland in King Louis' hands was unreservedly under French influence, and its union to the empire conveyed no threat of danger to England, which was, besides, well accustomed to the evils of the war, and determined to suffer the consequences to the last. Some new overtures with reference to modifying the continental blockade had been entrusted to Labouchere, but they were hampered and complicated by Fouche's intrigues. The minister of police had recently authorized Ouvrard to leave Vincennes, and employed him in those mysterious negotiations which was soon afterwards to cost him the confidence and favor of his master. At this time, however, it was against the King of Holland that the anger of the latter was let loose.

The emperor had agreed to delay his projected union, thus a second time granting his brother the honor of obedience. In accordance with his strict demands, he resolved to rectify the frontier separating Holland from Belgium, and by taking the Waal as the future limit to form two new French departments on this side the river, called Bouches-du-Rhin and Bouches-de- l'Escaut. Zealand and its islands, North Brabant, part of Guelder, and the towns Bergen-op-Zoom, Breda, Bois-le-Duc, and Nimeguen were thus taken away from Holland, with a population of 400,000 souls. Heavy conditions were imposed on the commerce; and the guard of all the river mouths was entrusted to Franco-Dutch troops under the orders of a French general.

Against this the conscience and reason of the King of Holland revolted equally. He gave secret instructions to his ministers to fortify Amsterdam, and forbid our troops to enter any stronghold. General Maison found the gates of Bergen-op-Zoom shut before him.

The action was as imprudent as the resolution was honorable. At the news of it Napoleon's violence exceeded all bounds. In accordance with the custom which he had followed for several weeks in his communications with his brother, with whom he was not on visiting terms, he wrote to Fouche, at the same time sending him a letter from Rochefoucault, the French minister in Holland:—

"I beg of you to read this letter, and call upon the King of Holland and let him know of it. Is that prince become quite mad? You will tell him that he has done his best to lose his kingdom, and that I shall never make arrangements which may make such people think they have imposed upon me. You will ask him if it is by his order that his ministers have acted, or if it is of their own authority: and let him know that if it is by their authority I shall have them arrested and their heads cut off, every one of them. If they have acted by the king's order, what must I think of that prince? And how, after that, can he think of commanding my troops, since he has perjured his oaths?"

Any personal resistance was impossible to the unhappy king of Holland, melancholy and obstinate, but without energy. He became afraid, and yielded every point; his ministers were dismissed, and the strongholds opened to the French generals. "Hitherto there has been no western empire," wrote Louis to his terrible brother; "there is soon to be one, apparently. Then, sire, your Majesty will be certain that I can no longer be deceived or cause you trouble. Kindly consider that I was without experience, in a difficult country, living from day to day. Allow me to conjure you to forget everything. I promise you to follow faithfully all the engagements which you may impose upon me."

King Louis set out again for Holland, after signing the conventions which were to disgrace him in the eyes of his subjects. Only one bitter item was spared him; he was not compelled to plead bankruptcy. Henceforth the valuation of things taken was to take place in Paris, and the French troops were already seizing in the annexed provinces the prohibited goods which were stored in the warehouses; and Marshal Oudinot fixed his head- quarters at Utrecht. On the 13th March, 1810, the emperor wrote to his brother: "All political reasons are in favor of my joining Holland to France. The misconduct of the men belonging to the administration made it a law to me; but I see that it is so painful to you, that for the first time I make my policy bend to the desire of pleasing you. At the same time, be well assured that the principles of your administration must be altered, and that, on the first occasion which you offer for complaint I shall do what I am not doing now. These complaints are of two kinds, and have as their object either the continuation of the relations of Holland with England, or reactionary speeches and edicts which are contrary to what I ought to expect from you. For the future your whole conduct must tend to inculcate in the minds of the Dutch friendship for France. I should not have taken Brabant, and I should even have increased Holland by several millions of inhabitants, if you had acted as I had a right to expect from my brother and a French prince. There is no remedy, however, for the past. Let what has happened serve you for the future."

Scarcely had the King of Holland returned to his kingdom, bringing back to his subjects the solitary consolation that their national independence was precariously preserved, when the emperor, who was then travelling through Belgium, came in great pomp to visit the new departments which he had just taken from his weak neighbor. The Empress Marie-Louise, who accompanied him, was everywhere surprised at the unprecedented display of forces and the activity of the empire. Napoleon inspected Flushing, which had been recently evacuated by the English; and at Breda received deputations from all the constituted authorities, the presence of a vicar-apostolic supplying an occasion for a violent attack upon the papacy. "Who nominated you?" asked he. "The Pope? He has no such right in my empire. I appoint the bishops charged with administering the Church. Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; it is not the Pope who is Caesar, it is I. It is not to the Pope that God has committed the sceptre and the sword, it is to me. I have in hand proofs that you will not obey the civil authority, that you will not pray for me. Why? Is it because a Roman priest has excommunicated me? But who has given him the right to do so? Who can, here below, relieve subjects from their oath of obedience to the sovereign instituted by the laws? Nobody. You ought to know it, if you understand your religion. Are you ignorant of the fact that it is your culpable pretensions which drove Luther and Calvin to separate from Rome half the Catholic world? I also might have freed France from the Roman authority, and forty millions of men would have followed me. I did not wish to do so, because I believed the true principles of the Catholic religion reconcilable with the principles of civil authority. But renounce the idea of putting me in a convent or of shaving my head, like Louis le Debonnaire, and submit yourselves, for I am Caesar; if not, I will banish you from my empire, and I will disperse you, like the Jews, over the face of the earth."

These irregular outbursts of arbitrary will loudly proclaiming its omnipotence were excited by the very appearance of resistance. The King of Holland had sought to defend the interests of his subjects; the captive chief of the Catholic Church sometimes allowed the remains of his broken authority to appear; the most intimate counsellors of the emperor could not always hide their disapprobation and uneasiness. Fouche had gone further still. The emperor had in his hands proof of the intrigues in which he had been engaged in Holland and England. When Napoleon returned to Paris, Fouche did not present himself at the Council. "What would you think," said the emperor, "of a minister who, abusing his position, should, without the knowledge of his sovereign, have opened communications with the foreigner on bases of his own invention, and thus have compromised the policy of the State? What punishment can be inflicted on him?" Fouche had few friends; no one, however, dared to pronounce his doom. "M. Fouche has committed a great fault," said Talleyrand. "I should give him a successor, but one only—M. Fouche himself." Napoleon, dissatisfied, shrugged his shoulders, and sent away his ministers. His decision was taken. "Your remarkable views with regard to the duties of the minister of police do not agree with the welfare of the State," he wrote to Fouche. "Although I do not mistrust your attachment and your fidelity, I am, however, compelled to maintain a perpetual surveillance, which fatigues me, and to which I ought not to be condemned. You have never been able to understand that one may do a great deal of harm whilst intending to do a great deal of good."

Fouche was despoiled of his dignities, and relegated to the senatorship of Aix. General Savary, now become Duke of Rovigo, was chosen as minister of police. Napoleon was sure of his boundless and unscrupulous devotion, as well as of his executive ability. The decision of the emperor was ill received by the public. "I inspired every one with terror," says the Duke of Rovigo, in his "Memoirs;" "every one was packing up; nothing was talked about but banishments and imprisonments, and still worse; in fact, I believe that the news of a pestilence at some point on the coast would not have produced more fright than my appointment to the ministry of police." Savary succeeded to the ministry without any other resources than his personal sagacity and the activity of the police. Fouche had destroyed all traces of his administration. "I had not a great deal to burn, but all that I had I have burnt," said the disgraced minister, when the emperor sent to demand his papers. Many people breathed more freely when they heard this news. The Duke of Otranto became popular.